


Mirror Mirror

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Eating Disorder, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out you can be on the other side of the world and still feel trapped. Turns out – being in a band is more stifling than any nine til five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Mirror

The way I look now, I could have been anything. Doctor, teacher, lawyer...any of those monkey jobs could have been mine. My parents, they were all the time acting like my wanting to be in a band was to spite them. So I acted like that’s what it was all about. Which was easier for them to handle than the truth. The truth being I wanted to be free.

Turns out you can be on the other side of the world and still feel trapped. Even in a different country there are deadlines and people to please and places to be. Turns out – being in a band is more stifling than any nine til five.

I had it all wrong.

At first I thought having all the money would be a dream come true, all the girls would be brilliant. The fun, fun, fun of an unpredictable life. But all I do is waste my money on shit I don’t need and the girls are great but I’m never sure if they want me or the popularity of having slept with a star. The stories of I-fucked-that-guy-in-that-band and when they see me on TV they’ll turn to their friends and they’ll giggle.

I should have been an artist. Married a model and painted her naked at every opportunity.

Anymore, I don’t feel like I belong here. Where I am is some hotel in Japan. What I’m doing is staring into the bathroom mirror. What looks like vanity is really me picking apart my appearance.

People say I’m good looking and I have to wonder if they’ve noticed the broken blood vessel in my eye that the doctors say can only be fixed via surgery. A handsome doctor with flawless skin, I told him if I wanted surgery, it’d be reconstructive. Dr Beautiful’s blue eyes twinkled. Dr Boyish-good-looks laughed. Even though I wasn’t joking.

The people who admire me mustn’t notice my up-turned nose or the way my jaw looks when I smile – like there isn’t enough room for it on my face. Don’t they know that my stomach isn’t toned? That I haven’t stepped foot in a gym for years?

What looks like vanity or OCD is really me hating myself.

“You’ll crack the mirror, Mikey.”

I look over my reflection’s shoulder and meet Brad’s eyes, “Can’t you knock?”

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

Me looking at Brad’s reflection looking at me. I can tell myself that none of this is real. We aren’t really here. This could be our med school, law school, art school, psyche college dorm room. We could be anywhere but here.

Brad, he’s always calling me beautiful, saying he loves me. What he doesn’t know is that my saying I Love You is a lie. Sex with Brad is amazing and at least I know he isn’t running to Chester and telling him about the rim job he gave me.

Chester once said I was too in love with myself to be in love with anybody else. As if he doesn’t jerk off in front of his full length mirror at night.

I’ve never loved Brad, but he knows all the bad things about me and still wants to bone me every chance he gets.

And now, this could be me having a breakdown but it takes a line of coke for me to feel anything but blank anymore. And. Now. To the mirror I say, “Wanna get married?”

Brad’s eyes light up and he smiles nervously “Really?”

I nod and his nervousness turns into complete joy. We’ll fuck tonight, I know it. And he’ll tell me how much he loves me.

But until then I watch his reflection wrap his arms around mine and kiss my neck. Me watching all of this in the mirror, we could be anywhere. We could be anyone. And I could be happy.


End file.
